You awaken in a daze. Your head hurts terribly, drumming to the dull music of fear's lament. You struggle to breathe in the muggy air, each breath feeling like an intake of sludge. You feel extremely ill and keep seeing visions of death in your mind; making you question what has really happened to you. Everything feels like a blur, as if you've just stepped off the spinning teacups in an amusement park.
Which parts are real? Which are the nightmares?
It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust, your pupils dilating uncomfortably.
When they finally do, you observe the most likely vast area around you. This is definitely no amusement park, whatever this is.
You are in a dark prison cell, thick black bars surrounding you, enclosing you into a confined and irritatingly small space. Oddly, there is open space on all sides outside of the cell and no walls at all. Nothing but black, foggy space with dark shadows creeping inside the mist. To focus on such shadows is to wish insanity upon yourself, so you try to ignore them.
There is a small, eerie blue light on your left, but that's it. You can't make out what it is, the shape obscured by the layers of darkness.
After massaging your temples, you huff out a deep breath, hugging your arms tightly.
"Great. Just great," you think sarcastically.
You are in the dead center of the cell.
Uncomfortable from being in the same position for however long you were out, you lift yourself up, steadily and cautiously getting to your feet.
Your body aches in protest, but you fight through it, coming to a full standing position.
"Now," you think, "to find out what that is."
You begin walking towards the blue light, your steps slow and cautious. While it is a stupid plan, its all you have at the moment. Wherever you are, it is clearly dangerous. To proceed without great amounts of caution would surely sign your death warrant, bury you, and put a tombstone on your grave.
"I wonder what the epitaph would say."
Your mind led astray, you scarcely notice that your cell has begun to move.
It rocks slowly and subtly at first...
"WOAH!"
You scream as it pitches violently back and forth, as if a turbulent wind has suddenly come upon it.
"This is no cell at all," you realize, struggling to stand.
You manage to steal a glance upwards.
It is, in fact, a cage- hung from the ceiling by thick silver chains. You can only imagine how far the drop to the bottom is. You don't want to know.
As the space around you twists and convulses in dark shapes, you begin to hear unidentifiable whispers, preaching monologues of sadness and fear; last moments spent uttering words in suffering. You cringe, throwing your hands over your ears and forcing yourself to lay down.
The swinging steadily slows, and a laugh, all too familiar, replaces it.
"What's the matter, afraid of the dark?"
From the shaded shadows of black Pitch appears, a grin rooted into his angular face like it was tattooed there. His eyes shine brightly in the black, but just make it more unnerving. You force yourself to look at him, trying not to show any signs of weakness. An impossible feat.
"No. I'm not afraid of you."
Your voice sounds weak even to you.
Pitch laughs tauntingly, his voice raspy and eerie.
"Now now, we both know that isn't true. If you weren't afraid of me, then you wouldn't be here."
Your eyebrows furrow, your mind baffled.
"What...do you mean?"
He laughs once more, absentmindedly playing with a swirl of black nightmare dust in his palm. Although it isn't aimed at you, you know it very well could be at any moment.
"If you didn't believe in me, then how would you see me? Would I be tangible to you?"
He shakes his head. "No."
You shiver uncontrollably, the evil coldness creeping up your arms and onto your face. You have goosebumps all over, just from the sound of his voice.
"But why would you tell me that?", you try. "If I stop believing in you, I can get out of here."
His smile only grows wider. You've fallen into his trap, set to make you despair further.
"But you won't. You can't. You're too afraid- too weak."
Like a snake he slithers up to you, forcing your chin up with his hand so your eyes meet his directly. You struggle, but his grip is stronger than a vise.
"You're mine now. And I'll need a little favor."
He disappears into dust, reappearing behind you only seconds later. He is standing by the side of the cage with the blue light, staring out into the black.
"What's that?"
"Oh, this?"
He says it like its insignificant, but you know that it must be. He motions towards it.
"The favor I'm asking of you. That light is in fact, a person."
You gulp heavily, your forehead beginning to bead with sweat. What could he possibly want you to do?
"Who?"
Pitch turns slightly to you, a smirk gracing his face slyly.
"No matter. You'll see soon enough. What I need you to do is convince him to work for me."
"What?"
Pitch sighs irritably, stroking his hair back like you'd seen him do earlier.
"He's a...stubborn fellow. I need him to help me complete my mission. He refuses every time I ask, but now that you're here..."
He slinks up next to you again, forcing you to your feet with his dark, nightmarish dust.
"...that's all going to change."
Your eyes grow wide; you grit your teeth.
"I won't do it."
You almost want to slap yourself. "Brave words for someone so helpless," you think.
Pitch's smile turns into a serious expression, much more suiting to his demeanor.
"Oh yes, I believe you will. If you don't..."
He flicks his wrists outwards, and the lights, eerily lit with hues of red the color of blood, snap on.
You gasp in horror.
The lights illuminate countless other cages, all similar to yours.
There's just one difference.
The people in those cages are long dead.
Skeletal hands still claw at the bars, desperately clenching them in hopes of an escape that never came. Bits of flesh are still attached in places, a sickening sight that almost causes you to vomit. You hear moans and cries, pleas and lost hopes in a dull roar.
"Please! Make it stop!"
You begin sobbing again. There's simply no way he can be beaten. It is undoubtedly the most devastating conclusion you've ever come to.
You can almost taste the satisfaction on his face as returns the room to its former darkness, stepping towards you.
He grabs your face again, pulling it inches away from his. All humor is devoid.
"You WILL help me."
A definitive command. All you can do is nod, tears forming again.
"Just tell me what to do," you mumble regretfully.
"There, that's the spirit."
He reaches into his black, robe-like outfit, resembling a funeral shroud in many ways. A long and characteristically black garment, torn on the edges as if attacked by some rabid animal.
"Give him this."
He tosses you something. Instinctively, you reach for it, it's smooth surface hitting your palms hard.
"What is this?"
It is small and as black as Pitch is, nightmare dust swirling within. Yellow glints and disturbing noises fill your ears every few seconds.
"That is essence."
"Essence?"
Perplexed, you stare down at it. The dust swirls in and out, violently merging and disconnecting like a jigsaw puzzle gone wild. Slowly, you think you begin to understand what it is.
"You mean...your essence? What makes you Pitch."
He nods.
"A mere bit of it. That orb is meant to contain more than one person's essence. With his essence combined with mine...we will be unstoppable."
The mere thought of such a thing gives you chills.
"Who could possibly make you more powerful?"
"Another person thought to be myth. Most of them protect elements that I have no interest in. But he has something I need."
You hesitate to ask your next question, but as you don't know if you'll ever see the sun again, you feel a few risks are okay to take.
"What's that?"
He turns to you, staring you down like a mouse in a trap. You aren't far from that.
"He is cold. I have seen our powers combined once before. He can freeze my nightmares, make them permanent. As of right now he knows only physical frost, but I have confidence mental frost is within his reaches. I can destroy dreams, but they are always reborn quicker than I can send more nightmares. He is the key to their survival."
"...you've told him all of this?"
Pitch nods slightly again, crossing his arms and returning to staring intently at the light.
"Yes. He thinks it is wrong. He believes dreams are important, necessary. But we will change his mind. Whether I have to take extreme measures to make him do so, well...that's up to you two."
You sit in dead silence. The tension in the cage is great, and you're determined to not be the one to break it. You fear what will happen if you do.
Luckily, he is the one to make a move. Not that that is a good thing, considering he is so malicious he wouldn't hesitate to change his mind and destroy you.
He turns away from the light, stepping up to you intimidatingly.
He begins a swirl of dust in his right palm, and this time you know that it's aimed at you.
You look at him fearfully.
"Ready or not," he says.
You shut your eyes as the dust overtakes you.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Please review! :)